


Knees and Gelatin

by HVK



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Age Difference, Body Image, Cutesy, F/M, Fluff, Implied Relationships, Interspecies Relationship(s), Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Size Difference, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:38:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2422256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HVK/pseuds/HVK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Bubblegum and Finn have a sweet moment hanging out on a tree; she obsesses over the design of her knees and remains unaware of his fascination with her only briefly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knees and Gelatin

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Adventure Time or any associated properties. This work of fiction is solely for entertainment purposes, not monetary gain.

Her knees barely qualify as knees at all. There is little surface to them, barely any structure; they are only biological hinges between the rounded thickness of her thighs and the slimmer supportive calves, stacks of reinforced biomass throughout to walk more efficiently. Maintain balance, constantly distribute weight properly... she designed it herself, to be as efficient as possible.

Princess Bubblegum laments a little that she didn't think much about aesthetics. Her legs look bizarrely proportioned (at least she imagines; no one that finds her appealing has ever noticed or observed anything along what she is thinking, and perhaps it's all in her head), the thighs so round and thickly marked as a primary resource storage for excess biomass, the calves and feet so much less so that they look silly and tiny by comparison. Like balancing trees on sticks.

Perhaps, Bubblegum thinks as she tries to think of some displacement activity to ease the stress without considering that most such activity is entirely automatic and no one  _thinks_ about finding some, she is focusing a bit too much on her legs right now. She doesn't know why. She thinks, with a faint smile, of people long since gone who made comment on her strange attention span, that anything sufficiently sparkly (in an intellectual sense, something interesting or notable enough that she must notice it) could take hold of all her mind, and slide her focus to it at the exclusion of all else.

Right now, complaining at herself for self-perceived aesthetic flaws that she ought to correct seemed the thing. That was the problem with seeing how to fix everything; you also saw that everything everywhere had room for  _improvement._

And sitting there, right next to her, in conscious imitation of her: back loose against the tree as much as he could with a spine instead of more flexible biomaterial stacks, backside firmly set against the tree branch itself and legs spread loosely, wiry arms following the flow of the legs...

Princess Bubblegum wasn't aware that she had set her hands onto her knees, squeezing nervously, until she saw that Finn was doing it too. He looked up at her, like a half-sized masculine counter to her, and he smiled a big silly grin, a little bit shy and a bit of red color at the wide cheeks...

Bubblegum briefly regretted permitting this body automatic reactions. Her inner gel swirled, brighter shades of red under the pink, mixing into the thicker layers that formed her skin and sliding coloration through it. Her body flexed and shifted in place to accommodate the minor adjustment of mass, clothes creaking slightly where she strained against and eased away.

It wasn't  _quite_ a blush, though it looked somewhat similar. Bubblegum, a bit of a stickler for propriety, considered herself a bit grateful she hadn't educated him completely about how she'd designed her body. She wasn't entirely sure how he'd respond to such an explicit display of interest.

( _'Okay, sure, I'll install automatic responses into my new body," Princess Bubblegum said to herself many years ago in a planning stage. "Showing off I'm 'interested' in a physical sense. That probably won't be embarrassing. It's not like I'll ever be friends or get interested in someone I have to retain an attitude of ageless competence and perfection around or they'll lose heart. Like that'd ever happen.")_

"Hindsight stinks," Bubblegum said, pink and red still swirling through her. She turned slightly translucent, skin as reflective and bright as glass. The sun shimmered through her, collected and refracted, shining bright and pink as through through a stained glass window into a room of worship: the pink light glowed on the tree and on his face...

Princess Bubblegum rested her face on her hand in an expression of slightly put-upon moodiness, and didn't see his mouth openly slightly, his face color or the set of his body turn away a bit, bashfully.

The movement caught her attention though; her eyes glanced sideways at him. She put all the clues together, took note of the precise set of his facial expression and body set, tied it together and concluded what it was he was feeling. The gloominess shifted into a warm and sly smile, a little lazy. She raised an eyebrow at him, very slightly; not in contempt or amusement, but in interest.

One hand patted her knee. There felt barely anything to it. It was Finn's hand touching her, the boy reaching up just to see what her skin felt like. She poked a hand on his arm, holding it slightly as he touched her knee. He felt solid, enticingly so. It felt  _weird,_ so many layers of skin and muscle and bone, nowhere as efficient as her own body plan. It was different but... a nice kind of different.

His palm sank into her skin. Not very much, barely at all; she wasn't like the people of the slime kingdom, not totally viscous or fluid. But her body  _was_ fluid in nature, and his hand dimpled the surface, moving against surface tension. Squeezing slightly; his fingers on her, her skin on him. It was fascinating to watch, she thought, leaning forward to see better even though she felt it perfectly well.

( _"You feel kinda like gelatin,"_ he told her later in a very matter of fact way, though choosing his words with care in case she took offense. She didn't and found it fascinatingly put.)

She wasn't sure about it even as she kept leaning forward, closer and closer to him, no more than she understood her compulsions to tinker and study and study. She had to do it, had to  _see,_ had to  _know_ ,had to just do the thing.

This felt like that. Felt pure, safe,  _fun._

She wanted to kiss him.


End file.
